


Avalanche

by Mossley



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23963518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossley/pseuds/Mossley
Summary: Unseen, unheard, the pressure builds, each addition small, almost unnoticeable on its own. Slowly, inevitably, things accumulate in deadly silence until reaching a tipping point. Finally, all it takes is one little push to send everything over the edge. GSR, angst.
Relationships: Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Avalanche

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I promised this story to VRTrakowski ages ago for her beta help on a story. I was never completely satisfied with it, but it wasn't getting any better aging on a hard drive. Set some time after “Grave Danger.”  
> A/N II: I didn't have a beta for this story, so excuse any typos or grammatical errors. If you find any, let me know and I'll fix them.  
> Disclaimer: No one in their right mind would trust me with these characters considering what I do with them.

* * *

Sitting in the SUV, Sara Sidle drank from her water bottle with a resigned air. Normally, early morning was her favorite part of the day. The beauty of the sunrise over the desert, the air still cool and fresh before the heat turned it into an oppressive oven. It was a time that allowed her a chance to relax and unwind, however shortly, before sleep reminded her of the horrors of the previous shift.

But today she hardly noticed any of it. Today, she was tired, on so many levels, in so many ways.

Just once, she'd like to meet someone on the best day of their life instead of the worst one.

Her mood wasn't helped by the fact she was in McCarran Airport's parking lot. Even for an early Sunday morning, it was busy. The smell of asphalt and exhaust fumes, crying children and screaming airplanes, the blacktop already heating to uncomfortable levels – all of these assaulted her senses and prevented her from relaxing.

And then there was the reason for her visit to Las Vegas' main airport. _Grissom – for someone who doesn't want to be part of my life, he sure manages a lot of time in it._

As she watched more planes arrive and depart, her mind easily imagined the people on board. In a way, most of them were escaping. Inbound flights were full of tourists, optimistic about winning it big in the casinos, looking for the party of their life, hoping for something different, something to break the monotony of their lives. Outbound flights full of the same sort, but now trying to escape the ruin wrought by their trip to Vegas – financial, emotional, personal.

Taking another sip of water, she nearly smiled, although it would have been a sad one. Her PEAP counselor would have had a field day with those thoughts if she'd ever voiced them. _Do you see yourself as ruined? Do you see yourself as lost? Do you want to run away?_

At least that was one thing she could say for herself – she didn't run. It might have been better if she'd left years ago, Sara had finally learned to admit that to herself, but it wasn't in her nature. Life had destined her to be a fighter, so she hung on, never quitting when it made sense to do so, never retreating to an easier path.

In many ways, her life was better than an outside observer might have predicted for an abused child left to indifferent foster care. Sara had friends, undoubtedly the best friends she'd ever made in her life. There were people who cared about her, and she felt the same towards them. She had a profession in which she excelled. She had a comfortable apartment, she was financially secure, and yet she wasn't really happy, at least at a personal level.

_So what else is new?_

Between an abusive, alcoholic father, and a schizophrenic mother, life had never been easy, or all that enjoyable. True, it left her strong and self-reliant, but she was alone. And the older she got, the harder that was to deal with. And she was starting to think – for one of the few times in her life – that it was time to leave. She just wasn't sure if she should leave forensics, Las Vegas or both.

Stretching in the seat, she nearly laughed at the thought. Like that would ever happen. After all that happened, she always hung around. She didn't want to think about what it would take to make her leave.

_Guess I did get something from Mom. At least she had an excuse – she was crazy._

The thought came suddenly, and she fought it down just as quickly. She'd never asked her mother why she hadn't run from her abusive husband. In truth, Sara had hardly spoken to her at all since her father's murder. It was still too raw, even after all these years. Her counselor had warned her to deal with it, but that was one piece of advice she had never heeded.

A flight overhead shattered her revere, and she followed the departing plane with her eyes.

_What would it be like to just hop on a plane and fly somewhere sunny? Well, somewhere_ else _sunny_ , she thought to herself, the corner of her lips twitching slightly. _And then what? Hook up with some other drifters running away from life, indulge in whatever hedonistic fantasy came to mind, just ignore their respective troubles_ _like the characters from a third-rate Michener novel?_

With a dismissive snort, she checked the SUV's clock, took another sip of water, got out and started walking toward the terminal. In the end it didn't really matter if she left or stayed. Because that was the trouble with running – you couldn't run away from yourself, no matter how hard you try. And when you pared away all the excuses and rationalizations, all her troubles were her own. Just as they shaped her past, they defined her personality.

As she reached the terminal, she started scanning for Grissom. _Big surprise – he's the reason I'm here instead of bed_ , she thought with a rush of annoyance. Just as quickly, she felt her embarrassment rising.

It wasn't Grissom's fault she was so tired. Nick was still on leave from his ordeal being buried in the desert, and the staff was stretched filling in for him. Between covering his shifts and court cases, the whole team was working extra hours. Toss in the fact that everyone was still wound up and worried from that nightmare, and Sara doubted anyone had been sleeping well.

Then six days ago Grissom got a phone call from California and left without a word. Catherine eventually found out his mother was out there visiting relatives, and it looked like Mrs. Grissom had suffered a stroke.

Sara had called him immediately, leaving her condolences. Her voice mail also urged him to take as much time as he needed, assuring Grissom she'd cover for him, do whatever was needed so he could stay with his mother. It had been an automatic gesture, made despite her own exhaustion, and for the first time in ages she was on the verge of maxing out on overtime. She knew her old PEAP counselor wouldn't be happy – either at her automatic offer or her lack of sleep – but that wasn't something she worried about.

Because after everything, she still loved Grissom. It was who she was. And Grissom, being who he was, had never bothered returning her message.

Of course, she wasn't alone in that regard. Not even Catherine had managed to get another response from him. The team had taken to scanning obituaries from California newspaper websites to see if any mention was made of Mrs. Grissom's passing, but so far none had shown up.

Then, just as her shift was coming to an end, Sara received a text from Grissom. It simply stated the gate his flight came in, and he needed a lift home.

There was a time, and not all that long ago, she would have told him she wasn't his personal cab service. But she was worried about him. In truth, she'd been worried about him before he left. Nick's abduction had hit everyone hard, but Grissom seemed especially bothered by the experience. And that was weird, because he was also the one person on the team who didn't get emotionally invested with others.

He cared, she knew all too well that he _did_ care, but he chose not to act on those emotions. It was so rare for him to show any signs of whatever he was feeling. Seeing him at the hospital after the rest of the team had finally gone home after learning Nick was going to be okay, she'd been shocked to find him staring blankly into space.

“You okay?” she had asked softly, and he'd shaken his head slowly.

“I don't think anyone is ever okay after something like that,” was all he said.

She'd given him a ride back to the lab, but by the time they'd reached it, he'd regained his composure. Over the next couple days, though, anytime she mentioned Nick's progress, she'd seen the look of pain in his eyes, and she found reasons to look away to let him compose himself.

Nick's near-death apology to Grissom for being a disappointment had rattled their supervisor. He claimed he didn't feel that way at all, and in those rare moments when he let his guard down, she could tell it bothered him that Nick felt that way.

She tried not to put too much stock in the fact he'd always been alone with her when he did let those glimpses show. Maybe he felt comfortable because of his unstated love, but the fact was Grissom still had yet to confide his feelings to her. And while overhearing him stating his feelings to a cold-blooded killer had left Sara feeling hurt, angry, dejected and rejected, among other emotions, her feelings about it were now morphing to sadness.

Because she now realized how just scared Grissom was to let anyone in, that someone or something had left him afraid to share those feelings. On top of that, it was clear now how much he was hurting in that isolation. Worse, nothing she did was ever going to breach that. Like her troubles were her own, he was the only one who could come to terms with his fears.

Letting out a slow breath, she scanned the terminal again, finally catching a glimpse of Grissom as he approached from the luggage area.

_He looks like hell_ , she thought, silently questioning the severity of his mother's condition.

“Hey, Grissom,” she said softly, waiting until he looked at her. It took her breath away. While not a fashion plate, he was normally very neat, so his disheveled hair and untrimmed beard, the bags under his eyes and his pale complexion made her wonder how he managed to walk. “Let me get that bag for you.”

“No, thanks.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she took one of his bags anyway, slightly nervous when he seemed unaware that she'd done so.

“I heard about your mom,” Sara said, uncertain of how to broach the subject.

“I got your text.” Grissom paused for a moment to stare at her. “Did I thank you?”

“Don't worry about,” she replied, grateful that he was at least somewhat coherent. “Is she … was it a stroke?”

“No.”

When it became apparent he wasn't going to offer any more information, the urge to roll her eyes was stronger. She didn't, though, instead walking in silence to her SUV. Taking his other bag, she opened the passenger side door, went to the back to put his luggage away and paused when she reached the driver's side door. He was still standing in the parking lot.

_Just how exhausted is he?_

“Griss,” she called out softly, the old, seldom used affectionate nickname coming without thought. He looked up, slightly surprised they were at her vehicle, but he got in without further prompting.

“You haven't been home for a bit. The things in your fridge are probably beyond edible, even for you,” Sara said with a gentle tease. “Where do you want to eat breakfast?”

He cocked his head at her for a moment before fishing a scrap of paper out of his pocket. Handing it to her, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “We have to get Hank first.”

“Hank?” she barked. Sara stared at him in disbelief, but he didn't respond. Looking at the paper he'd given her, she frowned. It wasn't Hank's address. Putting the car into gear, she headed for the airport exit, making no effort to hide her confusion. “Let's get Hank. The more the merrier.”

She eventually reached the corner address. It was in one of the nicer residential neighborhoods in Las Vegas. The homes here weren't exceptionally large, but the lots were. And the home before them had a fenced-in front yard where several dogs were playing together. Grissom was out of the SUV with a speed she wouldn't have thought possible in his current state.

Even before he had called out “Hank!”, one of the dogs who had been lying alone under a tree suddenly came racing to the fence. He was a boxer, a bit small for his breed, but given his antics, Sara quickly came to the conclusion he was nearing the end of his puppy-hood. Grissom was reaching over the fence trying to scratch the overexcited dog, who was alternating leaping up, running in a tight circle and lapping at Grissom's hand.

“So, that's Hank,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist causally as she approached them. “I didn't know you had a dog.”

“I haven't had him long.”

She shrugged her shoulders. It had been one of the longest responses she'd had from Grissom since she'd picked him up from the airport. In a moment, a blonde woman came from the house, waving as she did so.

“Hello, Dr. Grissom! Let me get Hank's leash for you. He's already had his breakfast,” she said, frowning as he fumbled for his wallet. “Don't worry about that.”

“Thanks for watching him.”

“It's not a problem. We missed him, to tell you the truth. He's doing well.”

“You did a good job, Dr. Harris,” he said, bending down to rub Hank's ears as the blonde brought him out a gate.

For the first time, Sara noticed the marred flesh on his side and the fur not quite grown back. He'd been injured somehow. _Was it before or after Grissom got him?_ she wondered to herself. _Not like I'm going to find out._

Rolling her shoulders, she didn't let her irritation linger. He was tired, worried about his mother and who knows what else was going on in his mind. It's not like she had a claim on him, but it would be nice if he could answer her with more than six words at a time.

She grabbed one of the blankets out of the rear of the SUV, spreading it on the backseat. For a minute she wondered if Grissom was going to have to sit back there, as Hank kept trying to move up front.

“Stay, Hank,” he finally said firmly, prompting a small whine as the dog settled down.

“He misses his Daddy,” Sara teased as they headed out.

“He's not a child.”

“Right,” she muttered, again annoyed at her annoyance. She was tired, he was tired and getting upset with him was just stupid. It's not like he had any idea how to deal with what he had to be going through.

Spotting a fast-food restaurant near the park, Sara pulled into the drive-thru, ordering them both pancakes and orange juice. She debated the wisdom of adding coffee, not wanting to disturb Grissom's sleep when he did get home. When he remained silent, she refrained but did order another bottle of water.

Sara pulled into the closest spot she could find to a picnic table at the park.

“Let's go, Hank.” The pup anxiously waited as Grissom fixed his leash, making happy sounds as they walked the short distance to the table. With a confused expression, he looked from his owner to the open field and back.

“Here you go, boy,” Sara said. She came over with a large plastic collection bottle from the SUV, using it as a makeshift water bowl. Seemingly noticing her for the first time, the boxer cocked his head before launching at her. His front paws landed on her chest, nearly knocking her over as she straightened up from pouring his water.

“Hey, there. I like you, too,” she said, laughing as she rubbed his head. After a minute, he dropped down to lap up his water before collapsing at Grissom's feet.

Sara looked to him, half-expecting him to reprimand the puppy for it's exuberance. Instead, he was staring at her. Or maybe through her. His gaze seemed to be far away.

“Thank you.”

She nearly jumped at the sudden statement. “For what?”

Again, Grissom gave her a look that left her confused. “For Hank.”

“He's a good boy,” she said, smiling at how quickly the boxer had lifted his head at the mention of his name.

“He is.”

Once again, he shut himself off, eating his pancakes in silence. The only time he said anything was to tell Hank not to beg. Sara finished her meal in equal silence, deciding not to push him for a conversation. That was usually a moot exercise during good circumstances, and now didn't come close to good.

“Don't beg,” he said again without much conviction when a soft whine sounded.

Seeing Hank squirm and looking at the trees, she realized his need. “Let me have his leash,” she told Grissom.

“Oh,” was all he said after looking from her to the dog.

They both stood up, but he held onto the leash as she gathered their trash. They started walking around the park, and Hank pulled on the leash as he approached the first bush, lifting his leg with unabashed enthusiasm. Sara's first reaction was to grin, but seeing that Grissom was still staring out into the distance, her worry continued to grow.

They walked around the path, Hank still trying to dash ahead, full of puppy energy. Grissom only intervened when the dog tried to eat some ladybugs sitting on a plant.

“You should have shared your pancakes.”

“He'd still try to eat these bugs,” he said, giving her a slight smile. “It's a character flaw.”

“So you love a bug-eater,” she said it mock-seriousness.

“Surprised that I can love?”

The question was said so calmly and so unexpectedly she didn't know how to respond at first. “No, I always knew you could. I'm glad you finally took the risk.”

He stopped suddenly, causing Hank to give an annoyed yip before running back to check on them.

She started walking ahead, trying to calm her nerves. Hank, not understanding what was going on, kept bouncing between the two humans, but Grissom kept him to a steady walk. As they approached their spot, it was clear the pup was still full of energy, but his master was another story. It was only a one-mile trail, and they had moved slowly, but she knew his knees bothered him in the best of times.

“You rest,” she told him when they reached their picnic bench. Setting her bag down, she took off her vest and handed her gun to him before taking the leash. She wasn't exactly dressed for a run, but she could handle a quick jog around the loop. Hank stared at his owner with a cocked head for a moment before joining Sara. He trotted happily beside her as they went around the trail, darting ahead occasionally to sniff out interesting smells. When they rounded the last corner and saw Grissom, the pup began racing to rejoin him.

And Grissom was smiling. He was still a distance away, but it was clear that he was more relaxed. _Shame he didn't get a dog sooner_ , she thought as Hank dragged her the last twenty yards.

Laughing, Sara topped off his water bowl as she handed the leash back and gathered her things from Grissom. “Hopefully, that'll keep him calm, and he'll let you sleep when you get home.”

“Uh, huh.”

“And, I, uh, think it's time we got you back home,” she said, her concern evident in her voice.

Again, he looked at her in a way she couldn't define. “You're probably right.”

On the drive back to his home, Grissom occasionally looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but he never did. He'd turn toward her, purse his lips, pause for a moment before turning back to stare blankly out the front window. It was an unnerving experience for Sara. This seemed to be something beyond mental and physical exhaustion. It should have been a simple matter to ask, but – well, with Grissom – nothing was ever easy. She wasn't entirely sure her overtures would be welcomed, and she was tired enough that she worried she'd be unnecessarily harsh with him.

Pulling into his driveway, she fought down the urge to smile in relief. No matter how much she worried about him, right now all she wanted to do was go home, take a long shower and get some sleep. She had a court case tomorrow morning and was covering one of Nick's in the afternoon, and yawning during testimony never went over well with a jury. _How the hell did I work all those hours for so many years?_

“You're home, Hank,” she said. “Let me get your luggage, Grissom.”

“Thanks.”

He walked to the front door without a further word, but he did pause to stare at her, his head tilted before he looked down and waited for her.

“Come in,” he said as he opened the door, but Sara started to make her excuses, stopping when he looked up with a pained expression. “Please?”

_Oh, damn._

Swearing to herself, she forced a smile and followed him in. She'd let him make the customary overtures of thanks, let him know it was all right, and be on her own way home soon enough. She waited as he undid Hank's leash, but he waved her to the sofa. Still silent, he walked to the stereo, giving his head a quick shake before moving to the bedroom, Hank following him all the time.

“Come on, Grissom,” she muttered softly, frowning when she checked the time. She didn't want to leave him until she was sure he was okay, but she didn't like being left forgotten in his entryway. After another minute, she headed to the pro-offered couch, setting his bags on the coffee table. A flash of reflection caught her attention, and she turned the carry-on bag so the side pocket was facing her. In it, a framed photo of a young Gilbert Grissom was just visible. Pulling it out, a smile formed as she stared at the curly-haired boy standing in a snowdrift.

“That was the first time I ever saw snow,” his voice said from behind her. She jerked in surprise, ready to apologize for looking at the photo, but he had already moved into the kitchen. He'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old, faded t-shirt, but he hadn't bothered brushing his hair.

He rattled around in the kitchen, tossing an empty dog food bag from the counter into the trash can. After a minute, she realized he was washing out Hank's water dish and offered to help. A hand waving from the sink was the only answer, so she sank into the sofa in frustration.

Grissom, no matter what else, was logical, a man of reason. And right now, there was nothing all that logical or reasonable about his behavior. He wanted her to stay, but then seemed to be making excuses to avoid her. Was he running on fumes? Did he need someone to talk to? As much as she wanted to help, his behavior had her lost.

After putting down the water bowl, he tossed a dog biscuit on Hank's bed, encouraging him to flop down.

Aware of the awkward silence, Sara finally lifted the photo. “You look cold.”

It was all she could do to keep herself from groaning at how lame her attempt at conversation sounded. She had an Ivy League education, a successful career in a difficult profession, and survived more than her share of life's shit. Why couldn't she just talk to him?

_Well, it takes two to have a conversation_ , the irritated side of her pointed out.

She watched as he approached her, sitting on the couch with her. He wasn't close enough to be in her personal space, but he wasn't exactly on the far end, either.

“I was cold,” he admitted, taking the photo from her. She was too tired to believe he'd let his hand linger on hers while he'd taken it.

“Grissom,” she started, unsure of where to go. He'd asked her in, and she was happy to help him, but this was getting old. “Is your Mom okay?”

The question seemed to startle him. “Of course.”

Sara did a quiet count to ten before looking back at him. He was still staring at her in confusion. “All you ever told Catherine was they thought it was a stroke,” she pointed out slowly.

“It wasn't.”

“Glad we cleared that up,” she said, unable to mask the sarcasm that slipped into her response.

“Sara …”

“Don't worry about it, Grissom. I'm just tired,” she said after he seemed lost for words. She started to get up, but stopped when he slid closer.

“I'm sorry.”

“I told you not to worry about it,” she repeated, this time making more off an effort to sound reassuring. “I meant it. If you need more time off, I'll keep covering your shifts.”

“You've been doing that?”

“Sure. I said I would.”

“But you're already helping cover for Nick.”

“Yes,” she said, uncertain as to why this seemed so hard for him to believe. Thinking she saw a flash of pain at the mention of Nick, she decided he could use some good news. “Warrick talked to him last night before shift. He's doing better, well, as better as you could be after that.”

Instead, Grissom closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I haven't talked to him lately.”

“Oh, Nick said to offer his condolences about your mom,” she added. “I talked to him Friday night. He wanted to know if I'd heard anything about her, said to tell you when I talked to you.”

Sara realized then that a lot of people had assumed she'd been in touch with Grissom while he was at his mother's side. Several folks, including Ecklie, had asked her how he had been doing.

A quick glance at Grissom made her realize he was still upset. “Don't worry about not calling him, He knows you had your own troubles. Besides, we've been taking turns calling him. Between the team, his family and friends, he was getting swamped. I think tonight's Sofia's turn if you want me to forward a message. Or, he'd probably be glad to hear from you.”

“He thought I was disappointed in him.”

_So much for sleeping anytime soon. That comment really got to him._

“Hey, Griss,” she said, reaching over to take his hand. “He was tortured, thought he was going to die. I don't even know if he was aware what he was saying.”

“He knew.”

Sara gave his hand a comforting squeeze, but she nearly jumped when his other hand covered hers, pulling it close to his chest.

“Am I really that bad?”

“Bad?” she asked, her turn to be confused.

“At being human?” he said softly.

She sat quietly for a moment. _Oh, this is definitely heading in a weird direction._

“Grissom, whether Nick was in his right mind or not, he wanted you to be proud of him. That's something you want from some _one_ , not some _thing_ ,” she said in a light, reassuring tone. “Of course you're human.”

“I know I _am_ human.” He looked up, and there was no missing the pain this time. “But am I good at it?”

Unsure how to answer him, she gave his hand another squeeze. It would have been simple to give him a quick yes and hurry him off to sleep. It was clear he was completely wiped out. Total exhaustion was the only thing that ever got him to lower his defenses enough to address his emotions. But simple and truthful weren't the same, and he seemed to genuinely want to know the answer.

“You're … hard to get a handle on,” she finally said, compromising between a comforting lie and a disturbing truth. “It's not easy to know what you're thinking.”

“I always thought there'd be time.”

He didn't say anything else, but nodded a little. Hank, sensing his owner's unease, came over and dropped a frayed toy rope in front of him. When Grissom ignored him, Hank yipped at Sara and then tried to nudge his snout between their still-clenched hands.

“Here, boy,” she said, holding out her free hand and rubbing him reassuringly. He gave her a perfunctory lick before turning back to Grissom. To her surprise, he was watching the two of them with a hint of a smile.

“I'm glad you two get along,” he said with the first sign of happiness she'd heard from him in a long time.

“I'm an animal lover. That's not a secret,” she said, hoping it hadn't come across as accusatory. Changing the subject, she asked, “What happened to him?”

“Don't know.”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. His non-answers were rapidly depleting her willingness to let him talk. _It isn't his fault. He's tired. He's stressed. Let him vent._

“Can I ask why you named him _Hank_?” she tried, forcing more patience into her voice than she really felt.

That finally seemed to pierce his veil of isolation. A brief blush revealed he finally got the significance of the name. “It was the name on his dog tag,” Grissom said. “I didn't name him after … you know.”

“Yeah, I know who.”

He ran his tongue over his lips. “It was my DB about two weeks before Nick was … We found the body under an rock overhang. Heart attack. Looked like he crawled under the rock to get out of the sun and died there. He'd been dead a couple of days, but Hank stayed with him. He had the injuries when we found them. I'm not sure, but I think some rocks were washed loose during the thunderstorm the night before and hit him. His snout was swollen, he was lethargic. Maybe he ate a scorpion, or a snake. There wasn't any trace evidence left at the scene.”

_Wow_ _. Several mostly complete sentences, in a coherent order. This is a good sign, I suppose._

“Poor Hank must have been terrified.”

Nodding, Grissom gave the dog an affectionate rub with one hand, stilling holding onto Sara with the other. “He was. Animal control said he'd probably be put down since he was injured.”

“So you took him.”

“Hank showed so much loyalty, hanging around despite his pain. I didn't seem right to let him be destroyed.”

“That's for sure,” she agreed, her temper flaring when she saw him look away guiltily, dropping her hand in the process. No matter how badly she'd screwed up her life, she didn't want to be compared to a hurt puppy.

“I, uh, wanted to ask you a favor,” he asked after another drawn out silence.

She wanted to answer, “Another one?” but kept her response to a simple, “Sure, if I can do it.”

“Would you look after Hank?”

“Sure! That's not a problem. For how long?” she asked, thinking he would be returning to California.

“No, I mean if anything happens to me. Would you take him?”

He was looking at her so intently Sara felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to rise. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, but … you never know what could happen. I want him with someone who'll take care of him, if...” Grissom said, shrugging his shoulders as his voice faded.

“Yeah, of course I will. Just don't plan on collecting anytime soon,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood. _Just what the hell had happened in California to get him in this condition?_

Giving her a quick, fleeting smile he stood up. “Good. You won't have to worry about the cost. I had my will revised before I left and I'm leaving most everything to you. I didn't want to saddle you with Hank until I was sure you'd want him.”

Sara stared at him, aware her mouth was agape. _Will? Worried about dying? What the hell? And did he just say an entire paragraph? Shit. I wanted longer answers, but I wasn't expecting this._

_God, did his mother die? Is he in denial? “Gruesome” Grissom going full out Norman Bates is not something I want to see._

“Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm thinking I need to call Dr. Kane,” Sara said as she walked to his side.

Again, the baffled look came over his face until he realized she was talking about their forensic psychiatrist. Even then it took another moment until he realized why she said that. “Oh. No. I'm not planning … I wasn't … I wouldn't … God, I'm screwing this up.”

“You're pretty tired. And it's been a rough couple weeks,” she said kindly. Before she could suggest he get to bed, he walked back to the sofa. Sitting down, he picked up the photo again. Letting out a sigh, she sat beside him.

“We were on vacation, driving through the mountains on our way … somewhere,” Grissom said, nodding at the photo. “I don't recall why Dad insisted on getting a photo of me in the snow.”

“Maybe because you looked adorable?” Sara said with a grin, hoping to get him to relax. She couldn't relax with him like this. He was bouncing from topic-to-topic, changing moods and conversations with the attention span of a sparrow on crack.

“I was freezing. I wasn't dressed for the weather. I had been happy reading in the car.” Licking his lips, he added, “I liked to read.”

“I'm not surprised,” she said. Was he rambling or was this leading to something? It seemed like he was trying to reach a point. “Mom likes to read. She had a collection of children books. I read them all.”

“I bet you were reading way ahead of your age group.”

“Like you,” he said, the affection unmistakable this time. “But she kept collecting them. Even when I was working on my doctorate, she'd pick up more books for kids. I, uh, think she was trying to hint about grandkids.”

There was a time when Sara would have loved for Grissom to be sharing like this, but right now, it was doing nothing for her unease. He was exceedingly private. When he finally did get some rest, just how mortified would he be that he'd shared all this with her? Things between them were better than they had been, but still not as good as it used to be. This could tip everything back into bad, and she didn't think she could put up with that again. But it was clear he needed to get something off his chest.

_Let him share and be damned, or ignore him and be damned. Hell, if this is the breaking point, let it be because I helped him, not because I hurt him._

“How old were you in that photo?” she asked when he remained silent, resigned to let this play out. She could fuel up on coffee in the morning before court.

“I turned nine a few months before,” he said, pausing for a long time. “He died that spring.”

“God, Gil, I'm so sorry,” she said, her voice rich with emotion. “What happened?”

Again, he shook his head. “No one would ever tell me.”

"Hey,” she stated, taking the photo from him and holding his hands as he let out slow, heavy breaths. “I'm here.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she repeated, wondering if she should call someone else. This was getting freaky. But he'd asked her to pick him up, to stay here, and he was having trouble talking to her. She doubted he'd even try with anyone else. “You asked me here.”

“And how well did that work out for you,” he said, nearly snarling the words.

Jumping conversations, now jumping time scales – this was not going well.

“Do you see me complaining? Well, recently,” she added honestly. “I came here because I wanted to. I stayed because I wanted to. Nothing that happened to me is your fault.”

“I always thought there'd be time,” he repeated.

“For what exactly?”

“Everything. Anything.”

Sara rubbed his hands again, trying to wrap her head around the latest conversation turn. While she had some doubts if he'd even remember any of this, she didn't want to run the risk of saying something to upset him more.

“The Sun will be around for billions of years,” she tried for a lighter tone. “There's going to be plenty of time for anything and everything possible to happen.”

“The Earth would be uninhabitable long before then due to the Sun's shift to a red giant,” he said distractedly, his mind – no matter how worn out – easily supplying the factoid.

Sadly, she smiled as she slid closer to him. If they were ever going to make any progress, she'd have to take control of the conversation. He was just too overtired to stay on one line of thought for any length of time.

“Gil, what happened with your mother?”

“Bladder infection,” he stated simply. “It often causes altered mental states in the elderly. She was incoherent, delusional.”

That explained why they thought it was a stroke, but not why it bothered him so much. “Okay, so I'm guessing antibiotics took care of it?”

He nodded, but with a grimace. “My mother is elderly.”

“Right,” she drew out slowly. Why was he repeating that? “But she's okay now?”

“They kept her in the hospital for a few days, IV fluids and antibiotics. She'll stay with my aunt and uncle for the rest of her vacation, make sure there's no side effects before she comes home.”

“I'm glad she's doing better,” she told him. “You're not taking it well, though.”

“I always thought there'd be time.”

_For what?What point is he trying to reach? He's worried he's hard to talk to, but I must be just as bad the way this is going._

“She's elderly,” he repeated again, sounding as if he was working out the statement. “I mean, I always knew how old she was, but when did she become elderly? She was always a year older, but then suddenly she's elderly. No matter what you do, time leaves you behind.”

_Great. A metaphysical sparrow on crack. Should I call Catherine? And tell her what? Grissom would totally go postal if I ever shared any of this conversation with anyone else._

Was he coming to terms with his mother's mortality? And by extension his own? He had made a will.

_No, he r_ _evised his will. To leave things to me,_ she realized with a sudden start. _What the hell? Did he really say that? Why would he do something like that?_

_It's for Hank, to take care of him if anything happens. That's all._

_Yeah. Nothing is ever that simple with Grissom._

“I never meant to end up like this,” he said softly when she returned her attention to him. “I never wanted to be alone. I always thought there'd be time.”

“Time? You keep saying that.”

“To fix things. To figure things out.”

He needed to sleep, but Sara wasn't sure how to get him in bed. _Story of my life_ , she thought with a hidden smirk. “Do you have Benadryl? It'll help you sleep,” she explained when he once again resorted to staring at her. “You're wiped out.”

“You're leaving?”

The wariness in his voice wasn't lost on Sara. “I can stay if you want. But you do need rest.”

“I never meant for things to be this way.”

“What things?”

“Any of it.”

“Gil, babe, I want to help, but I'm not exactly following you here.”

Grissom shook his head in response. “Mom got rid of the books.”

“What?”

“The books she'd collected, the ones she wanted for her grandchildren. She got rid of them. Gave them to a cousin for _her_ grandkids. Even Mom realizes I'm a lost cause. That I'll never be anything but some workaholic hermit…”

Even with her own less-than-stellar experiences with parents, Sara had a hard time believing his mother would do that. But he did say she had been delusional. “Did she actually tell you that?”

“Not in so many signs,” he said, “but why else would she get rid of them?”

_Signs? Okay, that's not important now._

“She wanted to downsize, someone asked for them,” Sara said, pausing in her list of plausible reasons when he raised his eyebrow.

“I don't have to tell you I'm not exactly a people person,” he said, the self-deprecating smile doing little to mask the sorrow. “I didn't want to turn out this way. It … just happened. I knew things weren't going how I wanted, but I always thought there'd be time to fix things.”

She was quiet as she figured out her response. What exactly did he want to change? Why did he want her here for this conversation? As much as she wanted him to take a risk with her, she doubted he was actually ready for that. He wasn't in his right state of mind, the stress and lack of sleep causing him to admit things he'd never say to her otherwise.

“You have time, if that's what you really want. Think about what you want to change. You're a bright guy. You can figure things out when you put your mind to it. But right now, you're exhausted. You're not thinking straight. How about you take a nap, and call me when you wake up. We'll continue this then,” she suggested.

Not only would he be thinking straighter after some rest, it gave him a way out. She was sure he was going to be uncomfortable once he realized what had happened, what he admitted. If he was, then he'd be able to pretend he didn't remember any of this, and they'd go back to whatever it was they had. No harm, no foul.

_Just two lonely geeks._

“I wanted to be like Dad,” he said suddenly, again his eyes unfocused as he gazed across the room - or through time.

“Was he a good man?”

“Very much so.”

“Then I'd say you pulled it off,” she stated, rubbing her hand along his arm briefly.

“No. He was always in control. Stoic, strong, intelligent. He was a scientist, too,” he said, giving her a fleeting, sad smile.

“Life father, like son.”

“No!”

His bark caused her to jump, and she swore to herself when he flinched away from her.

“No,” he repeated more calmly. Grissom dropped his head, rubbing his beard with both hands. “I tried to rehearse this. What I'd say. I didn't want to mess up again.”

“Again?” _It's not like you've ever talked to me like this before,_ she thought to herself. _And it's not like you'll ever talk to me again if you remember any of this._

“You're not easy to talk to.”

Sara looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. “Sorry about that.”

He snapped his head up, frowning as he did so. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

_I need a drink. I really think I need a drink._

“For whatever I did that …”

“What?” His confusion was evident. “You're you. That's all it takes.”

_Oooo-kay. Hell, this can't go on much longer. He's wired, but that can't last. He'll be better once he sleeps._

He got up and started pacing. “My whole life – it's always been like this. What I think I'm saying, and what people hear – they never match up.”

Hank trotted to his side, giving a soft whine as he nudged Grissom. He reached down to scratch his head.

“I don't mean to be, well, _mean_ , but people think I am. I don't intend to hurt people. I drove them away. Always,” he said, giving her a brief look of longing. “Eventually, it was easier to stop trying. I stayed silent so I wouldn't cause pain, and that very silence caused pain.”

“I didn't know,” she said, moving to his side. In truth, she'd suspected for years that something like this was the reason for his behavior, but hearing him admit it? To see how much pain it caused him? She wasn't sure how to help him. His fears, his troubles – she could offer support, but only he could deal with it.

“Dad, he could pull it off. Keeping himself under control. People knew he cared. People think I'm cold. I didn't know him long enough to learn how to do that. Or I don't have it in me.”

“Don't sell yourself short, Griss.” She said it as kindly, as firmly, as she could, using the last of her reserves to keep her own pain under control. Sure, it was probably healthy for him to come to terms with this, but it hurt to see him in so much turmoil. To hear him finally voicing the reasons they'd never be together. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could bear.

“I, uh, meant what I said earlier. You're wiped out. We can talk some more after you sleep,” she told him gently. “Please?”

“Sara.”

At the tender sound of her name, she turned around. In a moment, he'd stepped into her personal space. A hug followed, and she relaxed into him, glad he had agreed to her suggestion. As she started to pull away, he wrapped his hand around neck, pulling her in for a kiss. It was gentle and short, but full of yearning. To her surprise, she made no attempt to stop him. Neither said a word as they broke it off, but they moved together for a second.

By the time they started the third, he was tugging at her shirt, pulling her toward the bedroom. Clothes fell in random piles, and they were soon on his bed, panting between the kisses. When she realized he was checking himself to prolong the experience, she felt even more in love with him. Rolling him over, she took control, bringing them to a quick satisfaction.

She moved to his side, resting her head on his chest as his breath gradually slowed to a steady rhythm. Staying cuddled against him, she let her fingers trace gentle patterns until she was sure he'd fallen asleep. Only then did she roll away from him.

_What the hell have I done?_

Sara stayed close to his side for some time, lost in her thoughts. She'd used him. He was out of his mind with sorrow and pain, and she used him. It didn't matter if he started it, if he needed the release. This was something he'd never do in normal circumstances.

_Wouldn't he know that better than anyone?_

She refused to believe he had planned this, as much as she wished it was true. When he woke up, there was going to be hell to pay. There was no longer any way for him to ignore the day's events. Things were going to be beyond weird.

Running her hands through her hair, she debated her next move. As she watched him sleep, noticeably more relaxed than he had been earlier, she smiled sadly. She loved him. She had enjoyed their … encounter … more than she would have thought given how tired both of them were. Maybe they both needed it.

Maybe.

But what now?

“Oh, Gil,” she eventually muttered, taking care not to disturb him as she gave his cheek a kiss.

Sitting up, she noticed for the first time that the covers on the bed had been pulled back. When had he done that? Had it been like that before they reached the room? She honestly had no idea, having paid no attention to anything but Grissom. She gently tucked him in before starting to look for her clothes.

She was debating whether it would be better to let him wake up alone and approach her when he was ready, or to stay there and deal with the aftermath directly. Standing in his living room, she found the last of her clothing when Hank trotted over to her.

She knelt down to scratch his ears, smiling as he washed her face with his tongue. Grissom had entrusted Hank to her. That had to mean something, didn't it? _And he wrote me into his will? Is he okay?_

“Sara?”

She looked up quickly, amazed at how scared and angry he looked. _Oh, shit._

“You're leaving?”

That was the last thing she expected him to say, and she struggled to answer him. Luckily, Hank took that moment to start licking her face again.

“You're out of dog food,” she said. “I remember you tossing the empty bag away.”

It was a true statement, and she didn't actually say she'd been on way to buy more. She didn't feel comfortable with the partial truth, but it seemed to get him to relax. He certainly didn't seem fazed to be standing in front of her totally nude.

“There's another bag in the pantry.”

“Okay,” she said, standing up and holding her clothes in front of her. She immediately had to push Hank away as he started to sniff. “Shower?”

“Hank! Go outside to play,” Grissom said, slapping his thigh as he opened the back door. Noticing her look, he added, “I had the backyard fenced.”

“I'm sure he likes that,” she answered, knowing it was a lame response. She still tried to hold her clothes in front of herself self-consciously, but Grissom seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He led her to the bathroom and started the water running before disappearing in the hallway. She had been getting ready to step in when he returned with a stack of towels and some clothes.

Giving him an embarrassed smile, her reaction morphed to surprise when he took her hand and led her into the shower.

_Okay, he's handling this better than I am._

_Or he's being polite._

_Or he really is going to go full Norman Bates on me..._

Those thoughts faded as he turned her around and started washing her back, slowly massaging her stiff muscles. Turning back around, she returned the favor. The shower was a strange mix of sensual without being sexual. They were both too tired at that point for anything physical to happen, but they were both content to gently explore each other.

When they were done, he slipped into his sweatpants again and tossed her an over-sized t-shirt. With a kind look, he left her to dress in private. Finishing up, she came out to find him filling Hank's food dish, the puppy dancing impatiently. With a smile, she came over to join him, enjoying the simple pleasure he obviously took in caring for his pet. He unlocked the dog flap in the back door before wrapping his arm around her, steering her back to his bedroom.

This time, she climbed into bed beside him and quickly joined him in sleeping.

When she woke, she immediately realized she wasn't in her own bed. The wall color was different, the sheets were not as soft, the light entered the room wrong, the smell was different. Most obviously, there was a heavy weight behind on her on the bed, and there was a solid pressure pushing into her hip.

A pressure that was also cold and wet.

Looking over, she grinned as Hank stared at her, his snout pushing into her body as his stub tail wagged on the bed. He'd joined them at some point, worming his way between their bodies. Rolling over, she wasn't surprised that Grissom was still out. He needed the rest.

After a few minutes, she slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. When she came back, she crawled into bed softly not to disturb him. Grissom had been upset when she was gone last night. She had no idea if he'd still feel that way now, but she wasn't going to take a chance. Instead, she spent the time quietly playing with Hank.

It was his phone ringing that finally roused him, and he'd stared at her for a moment before going to answer the call. Hank gave her a parting lick before hopping off the bed to follow him. She started dressing in her own clothes, wondering how this was going to play out. She waited a few moments, hoping he'd decide to get some more sleep.

When it was clear he wasn't going to return, she walked out into the kitchen. She was greeted with a fresh cup of coffee as Grissom finished his call. “Sorry,” he said when he hung up.

“Don't be,” she answered, hoping he only meant the call.

“What time are you heading to the lab tonight?”

“I'm not. Court tomorrow morning and afternoon,” she explained. “Covering one of Nick's cases.”

His look wasn't completely comforting. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“You do know who you're talking to, don't you? I'm fine,” she quipped, flashing him a grin. “You should get some more sleep.”

He shook his head. “I need to get into the lab tonight.”

“I can cover for you. You should take some more time off.”

“Sara, even you can't do the work of three people. Thanks, but take care of yourself.”

His words were kind, and he was giving her an affectionate look. Still, she had the feeling he wanted, or needed, some time alone. His posture was stiff and he wouldn't hold her gaze for long.

“Do you need me to run any errands, go to the store, or anything?” she offered. When he shook his head again, she shifted on her feet awkwardly. “I need to review those files for tomorrow. I'm going to head home. Call me if you need anything. I mean that, Gri … uh, Gil.”

If he found anything odd about her using his first name, he didn't show it. “Thanks.”

She wasn't sure if she should give him a parting kiss or not. He wasn't freaking out, but he wasn't completely at ease, either. She settled on a quick hug. “I was serious. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay.”

On the drive home, she ran over the entire day in her head. He asked her over. He opened up to her. He made wonderful love to her. He closed off again. Logically, she knew it wasn't surprising. Wanting to change and actually doing it were two very different things. He probably was off-kilter, needing time to adjust to the change. She just hoped he wasn't regretting it.

If he needed some time to process, that was fine. She didn't worry when he didn't contact her that night, or check up on her court cases the next day. When she went into the lab the following night, he frowned at her in open disapproval.

“Don't you ever sleep?” he asked in disbelief before her panic had time to set in.

“Do you even know who works for you?” Greg joked, ribbing Sara as he walked by.

She stole a glance in Grissom's direction, sure the quip had caused him some pain. There was no time to ask him about it, though, as he quickly passed out the night's assignments.

“Sara, DB at an auto garage, suspicious circumstances.”

She couldn't help but wonder if there was any significance to her being the only one being sent out alone. Not wanting to draw attention to their tense exchange, she ignored the looks from the others as she went to change into coveralls.

“So, it's a dress-down kinda night,” she said, waving over her shoulder on the way out of the room.

At the scene, she greeted the officer and Dave with her normal friendly banter. She went about processing the scene in an efficient manner. It was a cluttered work space, full of grease and grime, and it was taking her a long time to photograph and bag everything once the body was taken away.

“Hi.”

She looked up suddenly at Grissom's apprehensive approach. He wasn't smiling, but he seemed friendlier than he had at the lab. She couldn't tell, though, if he was there to check up on her or on her work.

“Did you know paperwork is sentient?”

Sara actually stopped in the middle of collecting her sample to gape at him. “Did you know I still have Dr. Kane's phone number?” she responded, wondering if she really should keep that particular number handy.

“I'm not kidding. You finish one pile, go get a cup of coffee, and it's moved, multiplied and mixed itself with another.”

“So, do you think it's a parasite?”

“I don't know if I'd go that far,” he said, stepping down carefully into the oil pit with her. “Your DB?”

“Oh, he's definitely dead. The engine fell on his head, crushing him.”

“Murder?”

“Doubt it. The equipment is crap. When it fell, it sent containers of hydraulic fluid, motor oil, and I think lubricant flying,” she said, pointing out the various stains on the walls. “There's no voids.”

Grissom nodded as he followed her motions. “So no one else was here.”

“Nope,” she said, walking over to the chains hanging from a pulley. “This engine lift looks like it's homemade. Way too thin for this type of weight. I'll bet those breaks are from metal fatigue. I'm taking it back to the lab to check under the microscope, but I think it's safe to say this was an accident.”

“Nearly done?”

“I need to bag a few things up,” she said, lifting the evidence bags she'd already gathered. “Other than that, just waiting for the truck to haul the equipment back to the lab.”

If he planned to offer an explanation for his appearance, the sound of his phone ringing cut it short. Grousing about politicians and paperwork, he climbed out of the pit. “Do you want to help Greg and Warrick? Their scene was pretty complicated.”

“Sure. I'll drop this off at the lab first.”

“See you later.”

She watched him leave with a frown, unable to gauge his mood. If Sunday had been just a fling, she could live with it. She wouldn't be happy, but it was okay. But if it was going to cause problems at work … that was something that would probably hurt him more than herself. If only she knew how to approach him about it.

As it turned out, she didn't see him for the rest of the shift. He had more paperwork to catch up on, an upcoming court case to prepare for and a meeting with the sheriff first thing in the morning. She went for a long run. After coming back to her apartment, she lingered in the shower, remembering Grissom's gentle ministrations sadly. She'd just finished her breakfast when the knock at her front door came.

She'd barely opened the door for Grissom before Hank had squeezed his way in, jumping up on her and licking her face.

“Hank! Down! He's still a puppy at heart.”

“It's okay,” she laughed, scratching his ears thoroughly. She paused when she noticed Grissom dropping a fleece dog bed on the floor and putting two empty bowls on her counter. She filled one with water as he filled the other with dog food from a Ziploc bag.

“I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't good at … this,” he finally said, watching as his dog devoured his breakfast.

“I'm no expert myself,” she assured him. Where was this going? He was nervous, like he wanted to call it off. But he'd brought his dog, and supplies like he was going to stay a while. She decided to wait for him to make the next move.

He turned to her, finally giving her a nod in acknowledgment.

She went to put her breakfast dishes in the sink, stalling for time to think of the best response. She wasn't going to push him, that much was certain. If he wanted this, it had to be his decision.

Distracted by her musing, she didn't see him moving until he was standing behind her.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she said softly. “But I don't want you to stay unless it's what you want.”

“Okay.” He stepped away, but reached for her hand as he did so. Giving her a gentle tug, he moved in for a kiss, smiling as he directed her to her bed. This round of lovemaking was slower, more intimate, but with a level of shyness on both their parts. This time it wasn't a frenzied release, but an emotional connection and both of them understood the implications.

They curled together afterwards, slowly kissing and caressing each other. It was Hank's low whimper that got their attention.

“Come on up,” Sara told him. Grissom let out a grunt when the boxer jumped on his stomach in his haste to join them.

“Your bed really isn't big enough for the three of us,” he pointed out.

“Who do you think I'll kick out first?” she teased as she petted Hank.

He gave a half-laugh as he shifted around. After a moment, he shifted again, this time feeling the sheets as he did so.

“Something wrong?”

“It's small, but your bed is nicer than mine,” he stated, as if the notion was shocking.

Sara gave him a shrug. “That was one piece of advice from my PEAP counselor that was really right. It's much easier to sleep with a good mattress and sheets. It cost a lot, but it really is comfortable. And no cracks about when did I ever sleep to find out.”

“My mattress is ready to be replaced. Let's go pick up one like this when we get a day off.”

She must have looked at him blankly because he continued, “If you're going to be staying at my place, I want you to be comfortable.”

She continued to stare at him.

“There's really no need for you to pay rent when I have a house.”

_And I thought the other night was weird._

“Do we need to check your hearing?” he teased.

“Let's just take one step at a time,” she said, giving her head a shake.

_Is he asking me to move in? No, he's pretty much stating it. Is he serious?_

_God, I think he is._

So, they were a couple who should be living together just because he decided it was time? After all the years apart, did he expect her to move in because he was ready? Without consulting her?

But did she really have any objections?

Well, yes. He was only skipping a few key steps in the relationship timescale, and she wasn't sure yet if that was a good idea. This was insane. Still, she laughed with him as they tried to settle in as Hank wanted to be on both of them at the same time.

_Well, with Grissom, no one ever said things were going to be easy._

**The End**


End file.
